2Cellos, a Captain and a Tea-Boy
by SarahCat1717
Summary: Jack and Ianto take in a rehearsal of the duo 2Cellos. As the music plays we get to peek at the realizations Jack has about Ianto. Chapt 1 is fluffy, Chapt 2 will be more feels-filled.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This fic has been bumping around inside my brain for weeks. If you are not familiar with the duo of 2Cellos, do yourself a HUGE favor and check them out on youtube. Everything they do is amazing. The song featured in his chapter is their version of Welcome to the Jungle. Yes, the one by Guns N' Roses, played on 2 cellos. F'ing amazing stuff!_

_Sorry this chapter is short but I have been struggling with a wee bit of lack of focus, jumping between this and the original novel I have endeavored to start. But I knew that if I posted it it would push me to get the 2nd chapter up sooner. This should be just a 2-chapter deal. Next chapter should be a bit longer and more feel-sy. _

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On this particular weevil-hunting expedition, the weevils took care of things themselves. With Jack and Ianto in pursuit through the forgotten bowels beneath an ancient theatre space in Cardiff, the weevils escaped into an open hatch that lead to the storm sewers. It had rained for the last three days straight. Weevils cannot swim. Sorted.

The theatre director was thrilled to learn that the "violent street people" who had taken up residence in their basement storage space had been moved along. The theatre director offered the two men a cuppa in her office. They accepted. The two men left when the theatre director was suddenly feeling unfathomably knackered and thought it best that she lie down for a bit on her sofa for a quick kip.

Jack and Ianto exited the backstage area and were walking up the side aisle of the theatre itself when two dark-haired me took the stage with cello cases. There was no one else in the space, it was just a rehearsal. Ianto stopped at the top of the stairs, put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Jack paused beside him, questioning expression in place.

"I almost bought tickets to this performance you know. But we're lucky if we can keep dinner reservations this time of year, so never mind investing in concert tickets. It's a shame really. You would have liked them." Ianto replied to the unspoken question.

"Yeah, Weevil mating season is always crazy. Yan you know that I don't care much for stuffy classical music, but I would be happy to stick around and listen to rehearsal if you want to." Jack responded, resting one hand on Ianto's back.

Ianto's face brightened in surprise. Jack would do anything to earn that smile. Ianto nodded toward the back row and Jack followed.

The two cellists, clad casually in black t-shirts and jeans, took out their instruments. In his keen side-vision, Ianto caught Jack's curious expression when the musicians set up. Their instruments were an unconventional open design. They resembled an abstract black inked brushstroke idea of a cello hovering around a stringed bridge.

Jack leaned over a little and whispered "Those don't look like regular cellos."

Ianto smiled knowingly and responded "This isn't your usual 'stuffy classical music' either. Now shush, they are about to start."

One man lifted his bow, then the next. They traded some melody, then things escalated quickly. The young man on the right launched himself, full-bodied, into a frenzied pace, transforming into a blur of bow strokes and dancing fingers and a a mop of shiny brown hair swaying to the music. The other musician made his cello sing the melody. Even though Jack didn't know the song he could tell that the one cello's part was replacing what would have been sung. He envisioned, quite accurately actually, that it would have been an undulating, long-haired rocker made of 50% sex and 50% raw talent mixed with a generous shot of booze-or-something-like-it and a dash of f-you for good measure. But these two young men took it to a whole other level.

Jack felt his heart beat quickening and a rush of adrenaline that was usually more likely to accompany drawing his gun or pinning his suited lover against the wall than simply watching a concert. Jack could swear he could smell the resin from their bows from the back row of an empty darkened theatre.

He leaned forward in his seat, aware of how the sound of the cellos rumbled through his chest and tickled the fine hairs on the surface of his skin. Jack immediately realized, with a fantastic flush, that it was the same effect as having Ianto laid bare underneath him. It's that time when pinstripes and great coats and pressed shirts and "sirs" are cast aside. All restraint is gone and all that is left is heat and shared air and the sounds that escape from Ianto's usually-controlled velvet baritone are deep and primal and yet still just barely resemble Jack's name.

Tearing his eyes away from the stage, Jack stole a glance at the handsome clever man that predicted he would like this particular brand of cello concert. Ianto wore a furtive smile. HIs light-blue eyes darted excitedly back and forth between the two men on stage. Jack went to extend an eager hand down to rest on Ianto's thigh when he stopped, suddenly noticing the subtle twitches of the younger man's hands. One lean, pale hand, with thumb and forefinger together, was jerking slightly side to side by the wrist, the motion timed perfectly of the one musician's bow. When Jack looked to his other hand, the fingers tapped out intricate patterns on the arm rest. Jack quickly glanced back and forth between Ianto's hands and the action on stage. Although he didn't catch every single note, he was pretty damn close. Jack chuckled quietly to himself at discovering yet another one of the hidden talents of Mr. Jones. With this young Welshman, Jack would never cease to be amazed.

While Jack was lost in revelry the song crescendoed then came to an end. The musicians were not the only ones left short of breath after the rigorous piece of music.

Jack did now stroke Ianto's thigh playfully as he leaned in and whispered "You never told me you played."

"Not for a long time, and nothing like these two. But I know enough about it to appreciate it that much more."

Ianto's hand covered Jack's now, which had been creeping up his thigh.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"I was just wondering if this place has a coat room so maybe we could make some of our own music Mr. Jones."

"Hhmmmmm...tempting, but one more song first, yeah? I told you you would like them."

Jack gave the incredibly soft strip of skin between Ianto's sideburn and his ear a quick kiss and hummed something that sounded like agreement. He chuckled as Ianto, with an eye roll and smirk, removed Jack's hand from his thigh (which seemed to have been slowly migrating north again as if it had a mind of its own) and kept it held in his atop the arm rest between them.

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_Thanks for reading! I LOVE to get alerts about reviews! Let me know what you think about this scene and what you think about 2Cellos. I hope to post the conclusion within 2 days or so. _


	2. Chapter 2

The next song the duo took on was slower but rich and haunting. Jack closed his eyes momentarily and tried to place where he had heard it before. He kept coming up with the sense memories of the smell of coffee, the feel of high thread count sheets, and...steam? A smile slowly spread across the immortal's face. This was the soundtrack of Ianto humming in the shower at his flat. This is the sound track of the closest thing to home that Jack has found to fit that title in decades.

Eyes just barely open, he leaned closer to Ianto and whispered "This is from that Irish band that you like, right? What's it called?"

Ianto met Jack's eyes. He smiled warmly but Jack saw a touch of sadness there in the impossibly varied hues of blue.

"It's called With of Without You"

Jack averted his gaze, turning his attention back to the cellists, but he felt how Ianto kept looking at him, studying his profile. Then Ianto Jones closed his eyes, moved close enough to Jack so that his breath skirted the Captain's ear, and he started to sing. It was so soft at first, Jack almost thought he was dreaming. But Ianto's bravery picked up a bit and he sang sweetly yet with strength and vulnerability and..._everything. _Jack's breath caught in his throat. All he could think was _beautifulbeautifulbeautiful...my beautiful Welshman._

_Through the storm we reach the shore_

_You give it all but I want more_

_And I'm waiting for you_

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

_I can't live_

_With or without you_

Ianto gently turned Jack's hand in his and left it resting between them, palm up. Jack's fingers reached upwards for a moment on their own, searching out the warmth again. Jack's swimming thoughts flashed to how he did this so often anymore...how he found himself standing within reach of Ianto as they all stood around talking in the Hub. How he could pick out Ianto on fuzzy CCTV camera footage as soon as he entered the Plase. It was like Jack's body was getting rewired daily to seek out this man.

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give_

_And you give_

_And you give yourself away_

Ianto was now stroking the upturned palm of Jack's hand with the backs of his fingers, from wrist to fingertips. Then he massaged his thumb across the one small almost imperceivable scar under Jack's pinky finger. It was from a family fishing trip when Jack was a boy on the Boeshene Peninsula. Having happened before his curse of immortality, it remained. Ianto stroked it lovingly, like he did the unseen wounds after one of Jack's many deaths.

Jack could hear him now in his memory, whispering to Jack in the dark "I know you come back every time but I still mourn you when you are gone, Cariad."

_My hands are tied_

_My body bruised, he's got me with_

_Nothing to win and_

_Nothing left to lose_

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give yourself away_

_And you give_

_And you give_

_And you give yourself away_

Ianto's long fingers loosely intertwined in Jacks and then pulled away, over and over. Jack's nerve endings were all hyper aware of every nuance of pressure and temperature, trying to memorize the hand of Ianto Jones touching his. That terrible truth was always nagging at the back of Jack's awareness. That realization that held him back from completely giving himself over to loving this man next to him...that someday he would be without him. Through all the good times there was that little reminder to try very very hard to remember this, because one day that's all he'll have left.

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

_I can't live_

_With or without you_

But Jack was fooling himself really. He tried to convince himself that he wasn't in love with Ianto Jones, this young man of not even 30 years old who has scarcely ever left the island of his birth. But here he was, the infamous Captain Jack Harkness, coming _completely and utterly undone_ by his voice and the touch of his hand.

Jack shut his eyes tight and concentrated very hard on not letting out shuddering breaths and tears. He wasn't fooling himself now. He loved this man down to his bones.

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

_I can't live_

_With or without you_

_With or without you_

At the conclusion of his song Ianto slipped his hand fully into Jack's. The way they fit together was such bittersweet perfection. Ianto knew the risks of loving Jack Harkness and here he was confessing his willingness to take it all on anyway. Jack thought with a cringe of the team's moniker for his lover, "tea-boy". But Jack knew the truth. Ianto Jones was the bravest man he knew. He was far braver than Jack. Jack tried so hard to hide his heart and Ianto was placing his in Jack's hand.

Jack closed his fingers around Ianto's and took a deep breath in the now-silent theatre. He heard Ianto's breath as well. Jack then slowly lifted Ianto's hand, turning it in his, holding it palm-open now. With his other hand Jack traced the lines and contours of it. He felt the callous on his trigger-finger and the softer ones on Ianto's fingertips from filing. Jack dipped his head and inhaled the scent of Ianto's wrist. It was warmth, adrenaline, coffee and Jack's aftershave.

Finally Jack braved to look into Ianto's eyes. They looked wet, amazed and hopeful. Without breaking eye contact, Jack pressed a searing kiss into the palm of Ianto's hand.

A visible and palpable tremble shook through the younger man and his breath was now shuddering. He closed his eyes and smiled.

Jack smiled against Ianto's fingers, raking his teeth gently up the length of them, finishing by peppering his fingertips with ghost-like pecks.

"Jack..." Ianto managed to drawl out.

"Hmmm?" Jack questioned as he moved his lips to the flesh of Ianto's smooth inner wrist, lavishing it with a small but wet kiss, followed by a lick right on the pulse point.

"Should we locate that coat room now, sir?"

Jack chuckled lightly.

"Tempting, but tonight I'd rather go home. Yan, will you take me home?"

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_fin.!_

_Shorter than I expected but making it longer would be forcing it. I had been thinking of this hand holding/stroking theme for weeks. I must credit author doctorg for the inspiration of the wrist-kiss. It was from her story Lucid, written for Sherlock. I am addicted to it. She posted a new chapter as I was writing this and I squee'd out loud! Yes, I am obsessed. _

_So anyway...hope you enjoyed my little tale. Please review and let me know what you thought of things. And DO check out 2cellos on youtube. Their version of this song is breathtaking. _


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